


I'd Hand You the Moon (If I Could Reach)

by nobutsiriuslywhat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Feels, Steve just wants to help, sad darcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobutsiriuslywhat/pseuds/nobutsiriuslywhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd give anything to see her smile again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Hand You the Moon (If I Could Reach)

He’s been worried about her for a while now. She was so quiet where she used to be loud. Distant and somber when she used to be ready with a joke or sarcastic comment. He hasn’t seen her smile in weeks, he thinks. He missed how she used to be and tries to figure out when this started. Why this started. It was subtle, but then it wasn’t. The blackness swirling around her like a dark cloud was worrying. He was worried. They all were, really. Her job hasn’t suffered, she prided herself on that, he thought, but she was suffering.

Resorting to asking Jarvis, he found her on the roof, and not for the first time. It always scared him a little. Before, he wouldn’t have thought twice about her being up there alone. She used to come up here with Jane when Thor was gone. When he was back, he would join the two and regale them with tales of far off realms. She used say it was one of her favorite things. 

Now, though? Now he was nervous. But there she was, just sitting against one of the vents, staring up at the moon through a thin layer clouds.

"How long have you been out here?"

She shrugged in response, "Not long. At least, at least, I don't think it's been that long." She shrugged again, "I think I've lost track of time."

"It's going to be dark soon," he tried. She didn’t even have a jacket and he didn’t know how she’d react if he gave her his sweater. If she’d react. 

"Yeah, probably. You should go inside," she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her voice flat, devoid of any emotion. Indifferent. He hated it.

Taking a breath, he tried not to sigh. Tried not to get frustrated with her. "I think, out of the two of us, you should be the one going inside. You can't keep doing this, you're eventually going to get sick."

"Have you ever noticed," she began as if she hadn’t even heard him, "that sometimes it's as if the weather knows what you're thinking. Take right now for instance," she looked up at the sky again, the wind blowing her hair all around. "It's not very nice out at all. It cold, it's getting dark, and it's going to storm soon." She lifted her face to the sky, eyes closed, "You can smell it, can't you?"

Taking in the calm look on her face, he, too, turned and his blue eyes took in the scenery around them. The vast array of buildings and rooftops. The stars you could barely see through the lights of the city. "Yeah," he finally answered, voice quiet, "you can."

"It's getting windier," she said as she wrapped her arms around herself. He really wanted to give her his sweater. "See?" she asked, turning to her companion as he sat beside her, shoulders barely touching, "it matches what's inside me. Like it knows."

"What does it know?" he asked softly, hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

She paused, gathering her words, and looked down, "That I'm dead inside." Pausing. Then, "No, not dead," she amended.

A sigh of something very near to relief sounded from her right, and he fought the need to take her in his arms, protect her from the world. Protect her from herself. He didn't say anything because she started speaking.

"It's strange. Sometimes I do feel…empty." She scoffed. “I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong. But then, it's like a storm. There's just so much going on that I can't hold on to just one thing. It feels like it's never going to stop. It's complete…chaos. I think that’s the word I'm looking for. But, chaos doesn’t really fit, either." She sighed in frustration. "I just don't know anymore."

He wanted to cry for her. "It's okay to not know," he finally responded after a few minutes silence. "No one knows everything."

"I just want to know something. Anything. I don't care what." Turning her face from the sky, she looked to the man next to her, "But then, I guess it doesn't really matter."

Her gaze was penetrating. She always did have that way of seeing right through you, whether she knew it or not. Unable to bear it for much longer he finally turned away. All he could see in her was sadness, loneliness, and a hint of desperation. 

God. 

It was too much for him to take.

"It'll get better," he said, but it sounded lame even to his own ears. He really, really, hoped it would get better. He’d do anything.

She just shrugged again, but said, "I somehow doubt that."

Not sure how to respond, to make it better, to make her better, so he said nothing. He pondered her, how she got to where she was. Wondering, even now, how it was that she was alone. How she succeeded in getting these few moments of solitude considering the madhouse the tower could be. The insanity of her job, and her bosses. Plus the rest of the company they kept. Living and working around superheroes was not conducive to a quiet life. He thought she liked it, but maybe that was the problem. No. No, her job kept her going, he was certain of that at least.

The two sat there quietly for a long while after. Both lost in their own thoughts. Finally, though, she got up and looked down at the man next to her, his blue eyes gazing up at her.

"Let's go inside," she said.

"Alright."

"It's too cold out now."

"It is."

"I'll make us something to eat."

"Okay," he responded, smiling softly.

He was determined to help her. To bring back the beautiful girl he had come to care for. She was his Darcy, and he would make her better. He had to. He loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Depression is a fickle thing to even allude to in writing because it affects every one differently. Sigh. And, trust me, it's never fun. 
> 
> Thinking this is going to be a oneshot, but I'm not ruling out a multi-chapter fic. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Also, feel free to find me on tumblr: nobutsiriuslywhat


End file.
